


Tell me how the pain hurts

by weirdodecoy



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Mental Illness, Love Confessions, M/M, Major Character Injury, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Post-Canon, Unrequited Love, its small tho, kenma makes a brief apparition, oikawa has a lot of anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 16:43:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10858002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weirdodecoy/pseuds/weirdodecoy
Summary: Iwaizumi inhales deeply. “If you need it, I’ll come to Tokyo for any checkups. In the meantime, hold on. I know it’s hard, and it feels like it’s tearing you apart, but you have to sink your teeth in, you can’t let go.” Tooru, he wants to say, you’re like a star, you burn so bright it blinds me, but he can’t, because there are boundaries. Oikawa is in Tokyo. It’s too late for anything now.





	Tell me how the pain hurts

As the train gathers speed, Iwaizumi begins to regret letting Oikawa go. The train is gone in a flash, too fast for the human eye to follow too far. There’s a huge map of Japan on the wall behind him and he turns to look at it. The distance between Sendai and Tokyo feels like a huge void right now, even though it’s only 350 km, and he doesn’t know why. He said to Oikawa that he was happy that he’d gotten the scholarship, he had dismissed Oikawa’s worries when he’d wanted to refuse it to stay close to Sendai—to home. Another shinkansen speeds past his track, gone again in a moment. Iwaizumi’s fingers are crawling with the need to call him, text him, say something. Stop, he tells his brain. _I’ll miss my bestfriend in due course_. They’ve been apart no more than a minute, he needs to stop feeling like this, even if he doesn't know exactly what it is he is feeling. He is happy, so happy that Oikawa got the scholarship.

 

***

 

Oikawa doesn’t really want to believe that he’s managed to crawl his way into one of the top university ranked teams in the whole of Japan. So used to always being second-best, he can’t really come to terms with the fact that his new team even offers shared appartments for its members and optional, free of charge psychological counsel. 

He’s already texted his new roommate and team member, a first year like him called Kuroo. He’s a spiky, black-haired hunk from Tokyo centre, who apparently knows the oddball duo and Karasuno quite well. They haven’t really talked about that. Their conversations have mostly been about, what room would you like? Should I bring an extra lamp? Have you already looked at our apartment’s location? Or, will you pick me up at Ueno? That’s the latest text Oikawa sent him, and he’s gotten the very brief answer of yes.

Now he’s waiting nervously on the platform amidst the mass of commuters and tourists. He wonders if Kuroo can’t see him in this mess of people, or if he just didn’t come and stood him up like the idiot he is. Hs fingers crawl to get his phone out. Iwa-chan, he thinks. Suddenly all these people feel like too many. Tooru had no idea that this many people could be in one place at one time. Tooru, the little Tooru from Sendai, will probably never grow into Oikawa, the I will make the national team Oikawa. 

“Oikawa!” he hears from behind. “Yo, Oikawa!”

Kuroo is shoving through the crowd wearing a strange mix of grin and smile. He waves when he reaches him, and Oikawa smiles back. He can finally breathe again. 

“Sorry I kept you waiting,” he tells him as they walk towards the exits. “I couldn’t find the right track number.”

Oikawa trails after him with his suitcase. “It’s fine, Tetsu-chan. Thanks for coming.”

Kuroo sort of smiles, sort of smirks. “Shall we tour the city after you drop your bags?”

“I don’t think I can decline.”

Oikawa is like born again. He’s growing from the baby chick he was back in Sendai, and Tokyo is like a bigger egg that he just needs to smash through once again. Smash through to get to the top, always the top. Everything feels ten times brighter and taller than back home. He asks Kuroo to take tons of pictures of him flashing peace signs or just making stupid poses in front of cool stuff so that he can send them all to Iwa-chan once he gets home. Kuroo points him towards a ramen shop that he likes, or a quiet coffee that seems tucked away from the city’s bustling, and he can’t help but think that one day he’s going to take Iwaizumi to visit all those places too.

“So,” Kuroo tells him when they’re standing squished together on the subway ride back home. “How’d you like Tokyo?”

Oikawa knows that the sparkles in his eyes are showing, so he ignores the growing cavity within his gut and with a smile he says, “It already kind of feels like home.”

 

***

 

 _Monday_

iwa-chan♡ at 10:32AM

 _Yo how’s tokyo_

-

me at 10:38AM

 _Iwa-chan!!!! (((o(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)o))) hiii!!! Tokyo is so cool!!! & tetsu-chan is soooo niceee_

-

iwa-chan♡ at 10:44AM

 _Thats good to hear i guess. I kinda feel sorry for him_

-

me at 10:46AM

 _Wait why_

-

iwa-chan♡ at 10:46AM  
_Well cause hes stuck with you now. Ur kind of a pain in the ass_

-

me at 10:47AM

 _iwa-chaaaaaaaaan (o^ ^o) you are so mean_

-

iwa-chan♡ at 10:49AM

 _Shut up and go to class. I know you signed up for that early one so dont lie_

-

me at 10:49Am

 _Iwa-chan classes haven’t even started yet ヾ(☆▽☆) stop bullying me_

-

iwa-chan♡ at 10:50AM

 _Right sorry. I forgot that yours start a week later than mine_

-

me at 10:50AM

 _I forgive you don’t worryy!!!ヾ(^ω^*) i’ll call u later tetsu-chan wants me to meet his ex kouhai_

-

iwa-chan♡ at 10:51AM

 _Don’t call dumbass i’ll be in class in like fifteen mins. Also you don’t need to forgive me for anything i don’t need a trashcans forgiveness_

-

me at 10:53AM

 _So mean_

-

iwa-chan♡ at 10:55AM

 _Yeah yeah i know. I’ll call you tonight_

 

“Tooru, who are you texting?”

Oikawa’s head snaps up and away from his phone in one fluid motion. Kuroo’s strange kouhai (partner?) is leaning in his face expectantly. His hazel (golden? Oikawa is prone to questioning himself these days) eyes are unreadable. Hearing his first name come from a stranger’s mouth is kind of jarring, but he does remember giving him permission to call him that. 

He smiles at him. “No one. Just an ex classmate. My best friend.”

His voice hitches a little at best friend. Is that going to continue? Is that going to just ignore and skip over the hundreds of kilometres that separate them? He grabs the glass of water in front of him, almost tipping over his steaming bowl of ramen. 

Kenma, that’s Kuroo’s kouhai name, looks at him strangely.

Thankfully before he can ask anymore, Kuroo swoops in with his usual eloquence. “Leave him alone, Kenma.”

Kenma looks at Kuroo, then he settles for surveying the bowl of ramen before him like it holds the universe’s secrets. They’re really an awkward group. Kuroo is too busy staring at Kenma, Kenma seems to be completely indifferent to the rest of the world and Oikawa feels crippled for unclear reasons. 

He digs his chopsticks in the ramen, even though he knows he’s not really hungry. 

“Kenma,” he brings the ramen to his mouth and forces himself to swallow. “You play setter, right?”

 

***

 

 _3 years earlier_

Oikawa’s first instinct was to call Iwaizumi. His knee had never, never hurt more in his whole life. He was on the floor of the Seijoh gym, a volleyball discarded beside him, and all he could do was bite his lip hard enough to make it bleed to keep from screaming. The landing had gone badly, or maybe he’d slipped, or maybe—pain. Pain again. He couldn’t bear to look at this knee, couldn’t bear to let his gaze travel further than his thigh, with its skin painted red and angry. 

His phone is back in the locker room, he thought, and like the stupid fool he is, he’d told no one that he’d gone to practice so late. It was almost eight in the evening. His mom had to be home by now. Someone—

“Tooru?” someone was shaking him. “Tooru!”

He opened his eyes, blinking through the bright, bleary lights of the gym, his lashes sticking together with dried tears. He was still on the floor of the gym. The only difference is that Iwaizumi hovered above him. He wanted to joke, am I in hell? Cause you’re obviously not an angel, Iwa-chan! But all he could do was choke on a relieved breath as the tears started to flow again. 

“I called your mom. We’re taking you to the hospital. What happened?”

Oikawa couldn’t even sit up. His knee laced with pain, it travelled up through his spine, singing his nerves, stuck at the back of his mouth like poisoned bile. 

“Tooru?” he said it again. Iwaizumi cradled his head in his lap, his mouth parted over his first name. “Tooru, talk to me.”

It was probably then that Oikawa began to fall in love with Iwaizumi.

 

***

 

Iwaizumi is pissed. He shoves back his bag from the desk, looking for his psychology book. His phone vibrates again. “Where the fuck is it??” he hisses. He’ll be late, and he’ll miss the lecture, he thinks.

He opens his draw and begins shuffling through its contents. Finally, there it is, its shining cover marred by Oikawa’s exaggerated script “BELONGS TO IWAIZUMI HAJIME”. He remembers opening the textbook packages together with Oikawa, and him using some strange paper cutter to make holes in all of them. _“Ow! So you’ll know they’re yours, Iwa-chan!”_

All he can do is snicker at it. That’s all Oikawa ever ended up doing to him. He left huge, gaping holes in his life and then just turned around, climbed on a train to Tokyo and didn’t come back. Iwaizumi runs the back of his hand over his mouth, holding it there. Then the tears start to come. 

It’s been exactly one month since the day he accompanied Oikawa to the station. One month of endless classes, frivolous texts and barely any calls. He hates himself for thinking that Oikawa would stick to him. It was obvious, it had been obvious since the day Oikawa had said, “I’ll go to Tokyo, Iwa-chan. I’ll make it.”

He’d looked like a prince then, or a god, standing on the gym’s steps against the backdrop of a setting sun. It was the day after they’d lost to Karasuno. Iwaizumi had gone to find him, knowing that he’d be at the gym, exhausting himself trying not to think. For once, he’d even played along with Oikawa. He doesn’t really remember those days after the loss to Karasuno really well. All that stands clear, devoid of blurriness in his mind is the gnashing pain that had lacerated his gut for barely a split second when he’d heard the words, “I’ll make it.”

Not _we. I._

Iwaizumi had smiled, that he can remember. He’d smiled and looked starstruck at the same time. Because that was what Oikawa Tooru did to people. He was like the brightest comet you would ever get to see. The kind you only saw once in your life. That was why Iwaizumi had lied to himself. Said it was gonna be okay, that he was happy.

Iwaizumi grabs the book from inside the draw and he puts it into his bag. He wipes the tears using his sleeves. Pathetic, he thinks, you’re selfish and pathetic, Iwaizumi Hajime. His phone vibrates again and he takes it out of his jumper’s pocket. There’s a slew of texts from Oikawa.

 

***

 

Trashkawa at 3:22PM

 _iwa-chan!!! Whats up!!! also i’ve been thinking bout like setting up some kind of skype account or whatever so that we can like. ya kno, videochat._

Trashkawa at 3:28

 _Don’t ignore me iwa-chan i know you saw the text_

Trashkawa at 3:32

 _Are you mad at me for something?_

Trashkawa at 3:35

I miss you alright ?? happy?? U got me to say it. you got me to admit a vulnerability now fucking text back u ass !!!!!! 

 

Iwaizumi can’t help but smile, and even though his eyes are all red and puffy and irritated, if Oikawa asked to videochat right then he’d call immediately. He does. After a few rings, Oikawa picks up.

“Had no idea you knew what ‘vulnerability’ meant.” He says.

Oikawa sighs on the other end. _“Iwa-chan!!!!”_

“Who else could it be?”

 _“I recognized you immediately from the gruff tone and the insults. I know you appreciate me,”_ Oikawa chirps. _“You’re always so eager to—”_

“Shut up, Oikawa.” Iwaizumi interrupts. “I called to say that I miss you, not to drag the crap out of you. Even though I could and—”Iwaizumi cuts off when he hears the complete silence coming from the other end. “Oikawa?”

There’s an audible gasp. _“I cannot believe this? Iwa-chan? Is that really you?”_

Realising all that he’s just said, Iwaizumi is glad that he isn’t video chatting with Oikawa, because he’s blushing through to the roots of his hair. 

Oikawa keeps blabbering on. _“Where did you take the real Iwa-chan? That little, tanned and kind of buff, ehm, ball of anger, you know? You must know. For me he’s kind of hard to miss and—”_

“Oikawa.”

 _“Um, yes, Iwa-Chan alien-kun?”_

“Shut up.”

 

***

 

It’s not hard at all to set up a Skype account.

 

***

 

Practice is brutal. It’s not that he’s new to any of that, to the bruises covering his thighs and hips, to the constant ache of his knee that has been accompanying him since first year. What’s new is Iwaizumi’s absence. He stares at the ball in his hand, the whole team waiting for him to serve. 

To the outside, they always seemed to be arguing, or teasing each other, or otherwise poking until something gave. The truth is that Iwaizumi was always there to help him push through. He was there when his knee forced him on the bench for months of vicious rehab, and he was there when Oikawa had reemerged from his room following their crippling loss to Karasuno with a hardened resolve: I will go to Tokyo.

After the practice match, Kuroo draws him close. 

“You okay, Tooru?”

He’d grown into calling him that after he’d found him crying in a corner of the bathroom when he’d slipped on the shower tiles, at one am, after he’d come back from practicing. He’d been having a sort of breakdown, a manic episode that doesn’t let him sleep until he’s burned through all of his fuel, every last drop. He’d hit his bad knee. It had been a flurry of, “oikawa?”, “oikawa?”, and when oikawa hadn’t answered, it’d became tooru, tooru. Oikawa can’t say that he minds. 

He runs his forearm over his forehead, slicking his hair back with the sweat. “I guess.”

They make their way to the benches, and Kuroo regards him worriedly as they drink from their waters. “Wanna talk about it?”

Oikawa shakes his head. 

Kuroo doesn’t budge. “Call him, tonight.”

Oikawa knows that by him, he means Iwaizumi.

 

***

 

Back from a late study revision group, Iwaizumi is seriously regretting skipping on his shower and his full 7 hours sleep as his phone begins vibrating. He puts his cup of instantaneous noodles and chopsticks down to answer. 

_“Hey,”_ it’s Oikawa. 

His voice feels distant, and also detached. Already, Iwaizumi wants to climb on the earliest train to Tokyo and go do something. Shake him? He says, “Everything alright?” He doesn’t want to say it, doesn’t want to ask, but it’s better to get it out of the way immediately, even though he knows how much admitting it stripes Oikawa bare. “Are you having an episode?”

Silence. 

“Oikawa?”

Something comes from the other end, like a sob, or a hiccuped breath. _“You can’t even see me, yet you read me so well.”_

Oikawa is definitely crying. “Hey,” Iwaizumi says. He likes to think that he’s gotten used to this, but it’s hard, every time, listening to him unfold like this. “I’m listening.” 

_“It’s hard.”_ Another sob wreaks through Oikawa. _“It’s so hard. Everyone is so good, and my knee… goddammit.”_

“I’m here.” Iwaizumi says. 

_“I think it’s giving me problems again, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa sniffs. “Sometimes, it’s on fire. Other times it doesn’t feel like anything at all. My mind’s like that, too. Iwa-chan, I can feel it. I’m going to crash, Iwa-chan.”_

He says it all in one breath, almost like he’s ashamed. Iwaizumi inhales deeply. “If you need it, I’ll come to Tokyo for checkups. In the meantime, hold on. I know it’s hard, and it feels like it’s tearing you apart, but you have to sink your teeth in, you can’t let go.” Tooru, he wants to say, you’re like a star, you burn so bright it blinds me, but he can’t, because there are boundaries. Oikawa is in Tokyo. It’s too late for anything now.

Oikawa whimpers. He takes careful, practiced breaths, like he always does when it gets this bad. They stay like that for what feels like a few minutes. “’ll try,” he says.

Iwaizumi smiles. “I know you will. You always do, and you’re the best at what you do.” It was midnight. Mistakes like that could be attributed to sleep. It’s not like that. Iwaizumi’s aware of every breath, his own held tight, waiting for a reply, but Oikawa doesn’t say anything, just hangs up.

 

***

 

“Kuroo,” Oikawa says the next morning, over breakfast. “I think I love him.”

Kuroo takes a sip of his coffee. “I suppose it was about time.”

 

***

 

“I fixed the appointment with the doctor. It’s next weekend. Kuroo said you can come. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

 _“Don’t be stupid. It’s your house.”_

“We’ll share, then.” The pressure scales to a breaking point. Oikawa says, “I’ll see you next week, bye.” He hangs up before Iwaizumi can answer.

Kuroo, smirking from the couch, gifts him one of his half-lidded stares. “Why are you blushing so goddamn much?”

“Shut up, you don’t know how it feels.” Oikawa, knuckles gripping the phone so tightly they’re stark white. 

“Oh, to be young and to be in love. I miss that era.”

“You’re my age.”

“I miss it regardless.”

 

***

 

The train ride to Tokyo is shorter than he thought it would be. Oikawa is waiting for him on the platform, waving like the dork (idiot?) he is. Iwaizumi can’t help but smile back. It’s not as cold in Tokyo as it is in Sendai, yet Oikawa’s cheeks are flushed a dark pink. They take a taxi back, with Oikawa busy pointing at all the cool buildings and the cool restaurants and _cool stuff we don’t get back home, Iwa-chan!_

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa gestures to him. “This is Kuroo Tetsurou. Kuroo, this is Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi is taking his shoes off in the foyer and is out of breath from the stairs. How come the little demon has enough energy to spew all of that? 

“I’m Iwaizumi Hajime,” he fixes Oikawa with a pointed look once he’s regained his breath. “Not Iwa-chan.”

“To me, you will always be my little, grumpy Iwa-chan.” Oikawa pulls at his cheeks, puckering up his lips up in a way that’s probably supposed to represent a baby. It’s disgustingly cute.

Kuroo can’t suppress a grin when Oikawa receives a light slap to the back of his head. 

“It’s a nice place you’ve got here,” he tells Kuroo after he’s dropped off his bags. “It’s surprisingly not filled to the brim with Oikawa’s creepy alien mementoes.”

Oikawa is making tea in the kitchen and, thankfully, cannot hear them. 

“I doubt it’ll be for long.” Kuroo answers. “Your Oikawa is kind of hard to put up with, he’s so goddamn stubborn.”

Iwaizumi flushes. “He’s not my—”

“Iwa-chan!!!” Oikawa calls from the kitchen. “Which one of the root teas do you prefer?”

“Whatever’s good!” Iwaizumi yells back. It’s like it’s goddamn high school all over again only now it’s cool hipster trendy teas and not beer.

Kuroo watches him. “Iwaizumi.”

He looks up immediately. “Yeah?”

“I think that this is long overdue, but, do you like him?”

There again comes the flush. It’s a telltale reaction. “Why are you asking?”

“Because I think that you should do something about it.”

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell me what to do.” Iwaizumi is still blushing, but he stares Kuroo down. “I’ll do what I see fit, not what a stranger tells me to.”

It’s Kuroo’s turn to flush, this time from embarrassment. “You’re right. I”m sorry. I overstepped my boundaries.”

Oikawa is back with the tea cups, and they drink in silence, despite his attempts at making conversation. The night in bed with Oikawa is spent in a sticky, sweaty mess, with every sound, every rustle, every breath making Iwaizumi alert again. He can only compare it to the hot nights in the summer, when Oikawa was scared of the dark and he forced them to sleep attached to each other on the futon, even if it was boiling. Iwaizumi supposes he has it really, really bad. 

 

***

 

The visit to the specialist is somewhat bleak and exasperating. They makes Oikawa do all sorts of invasive tests and scans, only to tell them that the results will be available in two weeks.

Iwaizumi can’t say that he doesn’t feel disappointed. Oikawa, however, puts on a big smile as he bows to the specialist, and all it does is derange his features into something that Iwaizumi can’t, just doesn’t recognize. Oikawa waves goodbye to the secretary, and he keeps appearances up to the elevator, because as soon as the doors slide shut, Iwaizumi shoves him against the wall, boxing him in. 

“Don’t fucking put up that smile when I know it hurts you like hell.” Oikawa gapes at him, and Iwaizumi, realising what he’s done, takes a step back. “Sorry, Oikawa, I…”

“Don’t apologise,” Oikawa answers, his fingers coming to tighten around the collar of his jacket. “I’m not good like you.”

“What do you mean?” Iwaizumi is a metre away from him now, leaning against the opposite wall.

The elevator stops its descent and pinges as the doors slide open once again. 

“I’m not as… spontaneous as you are.”

Iwaizumi turns away from his gaze. “Shut up. All I do is look pissed off all the time.”

“That’s not true.” Oikawa is like folding over, buried up to his nose in his scarves, eyes dark and wide. He raises his chin up to speak again. “You’re…” he pauses. “You’re realer, Iwa-chan. Not like me.”

Iwaizumi looks at him again, and Oikawa looks like he’s careening, out and wide. The space between them is suddenly unbearable, and Oikawa’s eyes are glassy, his mouth is parted in a way that suggests that something inside of him is cracking.

Iwaizumi stops just before the subway steps. Oikawa halts next to him. He doesn’t want Oikawa to feel too vulnerable, out here in the open after having to suffer through the disapproving stares of a doctor as they scrutinized his knee. “You don’t have to talk about it now.” 

Oikawa sucks in a breath. “But I want to, Iwa-chan.”

The sun is setting behind them, the neon signs growing in brightness as the sky paints itself all kinds of pinks and oranges. “I’ve missed you a lot, these past months—” like a dam trickling open, Oikawa’s hand reaches out, coming to tangle itself in Iwaizumi’s scarf. He grips it tight as he stares at Iwaizumi. "I don't want to have to give you up."

Fuck. Iwaizumi thinks. Fuck. Fuck Fuck Fuck it, because he leans in and kisses a crying, snot and tears and all, Oikawa Tooru. A little flutter comes from him, like he didn’t expect it, then he’s kissing back, kissing Hajime back as they stand in front of the subway stairs, the sunset illuminating their silhouettes.

**Author's Note:**

> if an "iwaoi tropes" page exists on some website i'm pretty sure i hit them all, checklist completed. Anyways, hope this blob brought enjoyment to someone, if so, drop by the comments telling me how you feel i'd love to kno.
> 
> reach out to me & pls yell at me abt iwaoi on cosmonautlesbian.tumblr.com


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